The Marauder Mandate
by IAmWhitLocked
Summary: Harley Potter was raised on adventure, magic, and marauder ideals. But now that Voldemort's back the time for mischief and mayhem should be over, right? Well, Harley's already in the midst of the best long-con prank ever and isn't it easier to fight an enemy when they can't predict your tactics? Fem!Harry. 5th year on.


**A few notes before delving in: (1) I tried to establish quite a bit this chapter, specifically on core relationships, but more depth will be revealed as the story progresses. **

**(2) There are some significant changes To Harry/Harley's childhood and as such, the Hogwarts years so far haven't progressed exactly the character is not the same, though all core character traits DO exist and are fundamental parts of the character, no matter how it may appear at first. In my mind it was similar enough not to go over all the years before as any differences/changes can be addressed going forward. Shit's going real AU in year 5 though. (Though I will draw on future events, I plan to try to do some new things)**

**(3) Despite how it may seem, especially in the beginning, this is not and never will be a bashing fic. However, I'm not going to gloss over people's character flaws and brush aside certain things the way canon did, I do, promise, however, to give everyone a fair shot and that I want to focus on developing everybody as best as I can. I'm not interested in flat characters. **

**(4)I'm not going to shy away from some of my favourite tropes but none will be put in without a purpose and I hope to be bringing something new and interesting to the table. **

**I'd love to hear your thoughts if you give the story a shot! **

_**BLANKET DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. All copyright belongs to its rightful properties, the estimable JK Rowling and WB. No harm is intended or money being made.**_

_It starts as most fairy tales do: there's a hero, a villain, and a curse._

A few drops of ink splatter the parchment as Sirius Black's shoulders set with grim determination. This particular tale may not be as fun as his usual fare but considering the smear campaign the prophet ran all summer while they galavanted through South America, it's time the Wizarding World is reminded of just _who_ they are slandering.

Of course, he has proxies slowly buying out shares of the prophet and those bastards will rue the day they came after his girl. But pranks like that take time and patience. And Sirius has never been great at being idle.

Twisting his soul wrenching memories into something hazier around the edges might even be cathartic. Maybe. If he squints and drinks enough firewhiskey.

He begins to write again.

_There's something peculiar and special about a child, in this case a prophecy - a self-fulfilling travesty; a comedy of errors that destroyed a family, orphaned a child, and saved (for now) the world. There is no promise in the ill-fated words that offer any sort of permanency to the peace. Nor is there any guarantee of a favourable outcome. _

_Yet, people mettle anyway. For the greater good, they say. _

_The babe is stolen from her protector and grief-stricken and full of fury, he seeks vengeance._

_When the harsh light of truth and consequence is laid bare to the child's sworn protector, a grim avenging knight, he cackles and howls with failure and the tragedy of mirth until he's unceremoniously and without due process, tossed in a dank cell. Condemned to darkness and obsessive rumination on every misdeed, every unfortunate choice, every bad thought or idea, he stares into the abyss. The abyss stares back until there's nothing but a growling, shaking monster, a harbinger of death — the grim. _

_He'll never be happy again. _

_If only…_

_There's a princess in the story too. Only, she doesn't know yet. Neglected by her relatives, she slaves at chores in discarded clothes as unwanted as her. She doesn't so much mind the bouts of hunger or gruelling work. Hazy memories of a powerful love swaddled her heart against the insidious cruelty. Like most of her ilk, she's uncommonly kind, beautiful, and can talk to animals too — well, so it's only snakes, but still, she fit all the criteria. _

_Somewhere, there was a promise of someday. _

_After a particularly hard day of derogatory labels, burned hands, and aching ribs from a tossed cast iron pan, our secret princess retreats to her cupboard. She wishes upon a star and prays on the pantheon of (old and new) gods. The combined force of her desperation, deliberation, and determination allow for a particularly interesting burst of accidental magic. _

_The damp and dreadful cell is somehow more depressing than her cupboard. The huge shivering dog whimpering in the corner breaks her heart. She approaches, but cannot touch the creature for she is both there and not; a soul adrift in a haunting maze of soul-eaters. But how can our chosen one worry about herself when this pitiful but familiar creature aches so? _

_The soft cadence of her humming a familiar tune makes the dog's ears twitch. No longer trapped inside his own head, wild eyes blink open, startled and a bit mad. The princess, struck by the truth in her heart, whispers a long forgotten monicker, that both crushes and lightens the grim's burden. _

_He's too far gone to ask how and why. They live in a world of magic and this princess has already proved the impossible possible once before. _

_They stare, deep into each other's eyes, bright emerald green melting into striking grey. Through the magic of their bond, communicating in ways only broken souls can, they meet in understanding, acceptance, and love. _

_Their reunion breaks only when the grim avenging knight who forsook his mantle out of shame and guilt senses his tormentor's approaching._ Go, _he begs but she refuses. The princess is already imprisoned elsewhere, one tower isn't worse than another, not really. And at least this one has dangers untold instead of only hardships unnumbered. _

_Desperate for the new, bright light ensconced in this particular cell, a soul-eater slams open the gate, descending rapidly on a princess and her knight. The horrific, skeletal visage rattles with greed but the princess only cants her chin, steels herself and says, Go. _

_In a moment of clarity — torn between self-loathing, devotion, and unparalleled love — the knight skitters from the chamber, past the oblivious cloaked monster so intent on his potential prey the muted canine emotions barely register. Nails scraping smooth stone, the knight glances back to see his princess wink out of existence just before the soul eater could bestow his cursed kiss. _

I'll save you too, _he promises, and for the first time in five years his trademark wolfish grin reappears. _

_And, so mote it be, the knight did rescue the princess from her evil relatives, ensuring justice is served, before he whisks her away to Happily Ever After, with all her dreams realized. _

_After all, the princesses dreams were rather simplistic: she wanted a family. _

_Though not all was at it first appeared. See, for all the grandness of her origins, her story grows greater still. The tale is one of magic and daring deeds; of heroic acts of bravery and courage; of profound loyalty and devotion; of wit and cleverness, and marked, most of all, by resourcefulness and determined ambition. _

"Drop the quill, traitor." A wand pokes a ticklish spot behind his left ear and he freezes. There's a long pause. "Wait this isn't a new '_Harley Potter and the_…' adventure book? Dear Morgana, you're turning us into a _fairy tale?_ Does your depravity know no bounds? Oh, if only Voldemort would smite me now." Harley Potter moans, channeling her inner drama queen.

Sirius knows any direct response on profiting off their adventures and fame would only irritate her more, and he's rather keen on his ear staying attached. Let her assume his shaking is fear-based and not repressed laughter.

He can't help it. Harley has come so, so far with his diligent and loving corruption — er, parenting. Her five years with the muggles messed her up almost as badly as Azkaban tormented him. He had some protection from the Dementors in his animagus form. Harley had been a defenceless babe at her most vulnerable and impressionable.

She was in equal turns neglected or belittled. Her every action and mannerism under an oppressive level of scrutiny and judgement. Conditioned into being, essentially, a well-behaved house-elf willing to take their punishment with grace, it had been nearly a year before Sirius coaxed out her true self, and the girl stopped retreating into blank propriety over any perceived issue.

Now, he possesses an immense fondness and adoration for her bouts of exorbitant dramatics, she's adorable after all. The extremes tended to extremely highlight everything he loves about his goddaughter.

In his youth, boredom had been a huge aspect of the marauders incessant pranking and mischief making, and with Harley, his life is far from dull. Their escapades and adventures are legendary; they're always concocting a new plot or scheme or adventure. Harley possesses the best of both her parents and her strategic approach to situations tended to put even Moony to shame. She's the brightest light in his life, and she challenged him to be better. For himself and for her.

Her tone dry, Harley says, "How much did it kill a piece of your blackened soul to write that last bit?"

"There's hardly any left after the Dementors," he quips, brave as ever in the face of danger. Because Merlin knew the girl was as vicious as him and not above a little cruelty when provoked. Also like him. Merlin, he's proud of his girl.

He yelps as a mild stinging hex hits his earlobe. Ah, so she isn't actually upset.

"That joke's never going to land." Harley Potter sighs, slumping against his broad back, forehead tucked into the side of his neck. "You're barking mad, Padfoot. Should I blame them for your quest to utterly ruin my life like a blundering troll?"

Sirius grins, knowing she isn't truly upset. Though he remembers her irate face her third afternoon at Hogwarts when she activated her two-way mirror and demanded to know what the hell he'd been thinking writing altered, fantastical versions of their adventures under a pseudonym. He'd crowed about it being an excellent prank. She ranted at him before bursting into tears and, properly cowed, he relayed the truth — it sickened him that other people were capitalizing on her fame and making profit off her name, life, and her parent's sacrifices. There was an entire section in Flourish and Blotts dedicated to her and _that night_.

There were plushies and animated action figures of a _child_.

After his experiences, he couldn't stomach dealing with the government more than necessary to sue so figured if others were going to capitalize on her fame, she should too. He didn't know how to douse the flames of their ardour so he chose to fight fire with fire and beat them all at their own game. Be better and more interesting at it than they were. He admitted all the profit went to a special vault that was all hers when she came of age — a nest egg to something special, even if she'd also have the Potter fortune.

And, truthfully, while he knew he couldn't erase the propaganda surrounding the girl-who-lived he had wanted to change her narrative. Wanted people to stop idolizing her for being an orphan and losing her parents. He wanted them to see her brilliance, her light, her beauty, her mind. All of the things that made her wonderful and unique and worth attention — none of which had anything to do with a scar.

He wanted the world to see _Harley_ because that girl was one worth attention but knew no one but him ever really would.

"Haven't you done enough damage to my reputation, yet? A girl's got an image to uphold."

"Says the brat who sorted herself into Slytherin."

"Cause Dumbledore's a right git and turnabout is fair play.

"Still the best prank ever. Even if…"

She sniffs, all faux haughty arrogance. "He clearly wanted his hero in Gryffindor and I couldn't care less."

"You crush my Gryffindor pride, pup."

"Your over-inflated ego will survive."

"Not sure it will."

Harley twirls her wand then tucks it behind her ear. "True. I mean, you still talked a big game after getting lured from our campsite in the El Yunque National Forest by that Ciguapa."

"It's rude not to look a gorgeous woman in the eye!"

"She had blue skin and her feet were facing the wrong way."

"No one's perfect."

Harley snorts. "You're just lucky Moony gave me my birthday present before we left."

"Ugh. I'm still struggling to sleep at night knowing I was saved by a book of all things."

"Rude. You were saved by a genius who _read_ a book on South American Magical Creatures and Folklore and has an uncanny grasp of spellcraft. It's not like the book did the heavy lifting."

Sirius' heart swells as he whirls around to hug his goddaughter fiercely. "I'm so proud! You sounded just like your dad there."

"Yeah well, can't even pretend to be nearly as pompous as you," She laughs. "Even after I caught you in your knickers about to be shagged to death by a blue creature."

"Bewitched or not, that would've been a good way to go."

Harley gags, struggling to free herself from his ironclad grip. "You're a menace."

"To society. As is the Marauder mandate."

Rolling her eyes, Harley grins with mirth. "Your payback's still coming for that, by the way."

He reels back, chuckling. "Hey, I rescued you from that Obia. You shouldn't seek revenge on your venerable godfather when he saved your skin from being an evil creature's new coat."

"It was your recklessness that got me kidnapped!"

"How was I supposed to know that Brazilian witch would send a monster after us just because I gave her some leprechaun gold. It was a souvenir from the British isles — she should've been thankful." Sirius protests, project entirely forgotten in the delightful teasing repartee with his protege. "Besides, it was your idea to swindle the woman after those charms she sold us failed to warn us of that Boiúna and we got trapped in that hellish time loop for a week. Thank Merlin you're a parselmouth and could reason with that bloody Great Snake."

Harley grins, impish and pleased. "Yeah I'm pretty awesome at negotiating. It's that Slytherin diplomacy. Far more useful to foster than the Gryffindor standard of jumping into action with nary a care or forethought."

Sirius feigns a shudder, placing a hand to his brow in mock horror. "You're breaking my heart with your silver tongue, pup."

Harley morphs the colour of her tongue silver and let her eyes revert to her mother's brilliant emerald green. "Gotta rep the colours."

Sirius mimes being stabbed in the gut and Harley retaliates by using her metamorphmagus abilities to turn her hair a brilliant red — Sirius' heart strains at how with the eyes and hair she looks so much like Lily. Slowly, her skin turns gold.

Sirius wipes an invisible tear from his eyes. "If you weren't a true Gryffindor at heart, I couldn't love you the way I do."

Harley grins. "Prat. I'll come at you with Godric's sword for your cheek."

"Now see here, young lady." Sirius jumps up and before Harley's honed reflexes could counter, swings the petite girl over his shoulder. "It's well past midnight and you have the train in the morning, so….it must be time for hot chocolate and treacle tart. Maybe a rousing game of exploding snap?"

Grumbling into his back, though doing nothing to resist, Harley mutters, "Lucky for you my revenge plot's already finished or I'd make it worse for manhandling me."

Sirius jostles her on purpose as they leave his study. "Our South American Adventure score sheet's even and you know it. Or do I need to walk you through our entire Summer so you see reason."

"No kid should be subjected to their parental in his skivvies, ready to shag, and making his first foray — don't correct me if I'm wrong — into bestiality. It's inhumane. Cruel and unusual. A travesty of epic proportions. Unbelievably scarring." Harley continues ranting all the way to the kitchen but Sirius can't hear her over his howling laughter.

The bustling platform is loud and obnoxious and a smidge overwhelming.

Padfoot and Harley are uncommonly still in the hustle. They don't notice the stares or whispers. Well, some part of them does, they're both a smidge on the paranoid side and they know Voldemort's back so it's not like they're into letting their guard down and setting themselves up to lose. But, the only thing they care about at the moment is each other.

The inevitable separation wears heavily on them both.

"Well, another year." Harley rocks back on her feet, sucking on her teeth, hands shoved into her elegant robes. "Padfoot, can we go to Romania for Christmas? I want to try befriending some dragons. Maybe that horntail won't be so testy when she's got nothing to prove to an audience? Maybe we could ride one?"

Sirius' somber mood breaks as he cackles. "You're a bloody nutter, Vixen."

"I wonder whose fault that is." She wiggles her brows, grinning.

"When you find the bastard, let me at him."

"Oh no, I've got plans to deal with him."

Sirius ruffles her hair, careful not to jostle the wand she's tucked into her messy bun. "Anything you can do I can do better, best remember that. You're old enough now I don't have to go easy on you anymore."

Too bad she's not old enough to be done with Hogwarts.

Her smile dims. "Don't make me go back."

"School's not a punishment, pup."

"I want to be with you."

"We'll talk every day." Sirius pulls her into his arms, clinging to her. "We'll talk so much you get sick of me."

"Never."

They stay, silent, clutching each other until the train's whistle blows. "Come on, sweetheart, take it easy on an old man's heart. You know I hate to see you go."

"It should be easier to say goodbye now."

"What rubbish. I'm glad it feels like hell." His voice is gruff, rumbling through her. "Reminds me how good I've got it having you in my life."

She squeezes tighter, uncaring that she's fifteen, that she's too old to cling to her guardian like this on a crowded platform. That she's managing worse than some first years. At least she's not blubbering like she wants to. She never cries on the platform.

"If I ace my Owls can we switch to home-schooling?" She mumbles into his broad shoulder.

Sirius pulls back to meet her gaze. "You love Hogwarts."

She does. Despite everything. She loves the ever shifting stairs, the endless possibilities to explore, the adventures, the hidden depths, the secrets to unravel, and merlin, most of all, the magic. The sheer presence and force of the castle calls to her very blood. She loves the castle, but…

"You should quit being a no good layabout and apply for the Defense Against The Dark Arts position. Keep me company."

Sirius pushes her away from him, still gripping her shoulders, and puffing out his chest. "I'll have you know, fair maiden, that I, Sirius Orion Black am the founder of The Cantrip School for Raiders—"

"That was my idea!"

"That I executed far beyond your wildest dreams. You can't take all the credit for throwaway comments you had no intention to follow through on. As I was saying, before a mannerless wretch interrupted, I'm also a world renowned author—"

"Yeah, blatantly stealing my life."

"I've got sway in the government —

"That you pay other people to handle."

"Investments and an estate to manage—"

"Goblins."

"I'm a Marauder and purveyor of mischief—" He pauses expecting her to interrupt, when she doesn't he adds "Plus I plan all our amazing adventures."

"I help!"

"Sure squirt. You're a great sidekick but I taught you everything you know so I'm the mastermind."

Her eyes narrow. "A hundred galleons and Romania as our next destination if I can do something all four marauders never could."

"Like hell I'm letting you anywhere near dragons again."

"I've faced worse."

"Yeah well, I'm traumatized by dragons. Seeing that nearly gave me a coronary. You aren't going near them."

"But having that animated mini horntail action figure makes me want a real one as a pet, but like a cute one that could sit on my shoulder and terrify people. I bet moldy shorts wouldn't mess with me if I was the mother of dragons. That's way cooler than being Captain snake face and daddy serpent."

Sirius shudders. "I'm deeply disturbed to hear you refer to yourself as mother and him as daddy so close together."

She deadpans, "Well, no one said divorce was pretty."

"Merlin's beard. The images." Sirius gags.

Unhelpfully she adds, "It's common to want to kill each other in the aftermath right?"

"Dear, sweet, Circe, take me to the abyss and gauge out my eyes."

"Yeah, you'll be wanting to gauge out your eyes soon, I bet." Harley laughs, hugging him tightly again before dancing back. Before he catches up she wonders, "So about that bet?"

Sirius ponders for a moment before confidently replying, "The Marauders are legendary there's nothing we didn't accomplish at Hogwarts."

"I'm going to get a prank into the paper."

"Sure, kid. Dream big," He laughs, indulgently and like he thinks she's the most ridiculous thing in the world. "When I win we'll go to America and bait MACUSA by putting on a real live magic show for the muggles."

Her godfather, who always bucked against authority and imposed rules, according to his stories, now had an unhealthy penchant and near need to taunt any and every government he could.

His desire to 'stick it to the man' doesn't bother, Harley. She's rather fond of it herself, but, sometimes he's a little kamikaze about it and so far she'd managed to convince him to leave the American Wizarding Government alone. Everyone knew they were a little punishment heavy and took the separation of magic and muggle more seriously than most countries.

If it weren't for his status as Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble House, he'd have probably been thrown back in Azkaban for some of the crap he'd gotten them into over the years. Well, that and he's unerringly good at not truly being caught, though there had been some close scrapes.

This will end horribly. If she's at all worried he'll win the bet, of course.

Sirius has stars in his eyes, and a wistful expression. "You can be my assistant. It'll be a special travelling Christmas show. You can be my cute little elf helper! Oh, this is going to be the best. Your mum made your dad go to a show once, he couldn't stop talking about it. I've got loads of ideas. I'll have to practice with some handcuffs though. And it'd be cooler to turn the hat into a rabbit instead of pulling one out. OOO — I'll even saw you in half! I _can't_ wait for Christmas!"

Saw her… in half?

"Quit your mad rambling, you're the real nutter here with your delusions of grandeur." Harley grabs her trunk, shooting a taunting grin over her shoulder as she heads towards the steaming train with minutes to spare. "For your cheek, and lack of faith, I'll make you look even stupider than you do now ranting about a faux muggle magic show and sawing me in half —you're demented. I'll get two pranks in the paper. One that will haunt you and one to taunt snake face."

"Get out of my sight, brat! I've got a show to plan!" Sirius laughs, as the train gives its final warning. Then her words register completely and he blanches. "Wait, what?! Don't antagonize—"

But the train's already leaving and she can't hear him over the roar of the engine.

She walks along the train, still grinning at her godfather's antics, despite the heaviness in her heart at leaving him behind. She worries so much about him when she can't make sure he's eating right and doing well herself.

She knows he's mostly good now. That they both saw mind-healers in France so their ministry wouldn't be able to access the records without international co-operation and despite allying together against dark forces, there's still deep seated distrust and dislike between the two countries. Typically, they didn't play very nice.

Though boy, wouldn't the Daily Prophet eat that shit up if they could get a hold of it. Especially in this current political clime.

Because, nearly a decade later, and whenever she's away from him she still gets overcome with terror that none of it is real, that she'll wake up under the stairs, half starved, completely and utterly alone. It still feels vaguely impossible that _this_ is her life.

Parents don't actively encourage magic outside Hogwarts, don't drag their children around the world, teaching them everything they know — good, bad, and ugly — thrusting them into new experiences and adventures, constantly broadening their horizons. They aren't unerringly honest and direct with their children about the dangers and harsh realities of the world.

Her home life isn't typical, or 'stable' and 'secure' in the way the average person craves. Not many would understand it. But it's more than her wildest dreams conjured up in the dark cupboard, all alone and she'd never trade it for anything. Not even her biological parents.

But still, that early childhood trauma clings and she's unsure if the nightmares of it all being ripped away from her will ever fully dissipate.

George Weasley stumbles from a compartment laughing, "We told you not to touch our sweets, Ronniekins! Hope you've been practicing some cleaning charms, blood is an awful bugger to get out of robes."

While Harley notices him she's also still a little lost in thought and idly reassessing her opinion on the Weasley twins. Beating someone up for taking candy is a little extreme, especially to be so flipping cheerful about it.

George stumbles straight into her, knocking her off balance enough she drops her trunk. He drops the bag of sweets in his hand and candies spill along the corridor. "Bugger, sorry."

He looks up and his curious expression reminds her that, despite everything, she's still softly smiling at the thought of getting the last laugh and making Padfoot eat his words.

"Weasley."

"Potter." He grins back at her, even though she's forced her smile away, as he rights her trunk first before starting to collect his sweets. "Have a good summer?"

"Well, spoiler for book 9, I'm still kicking."

His ears go fire engine red.

She cants her head, curious.

And, predictably, because no one likes silence and people are so want to fill it, he rambles about how his sister likes the series, but there's nothing wrong with a good adventure story. He mentions how fantastical it is, even for wizards and witches.

He clears his throat, focusing on the candy. "Anyways, everyone knows by now the Harley Potter Adventure series is bollocks. Must be a might bit awkward for you though what with a fake character gallivanting around with your name."

It's a lot better than what happened to all of Gilderoy Lockhart's victims. Their stories stolen by a pretty face and repurposed as his own daring deeds.

Besides, the Harley Potter adventure series _is_ a serialized version of some of her adventures with Sirius, though in the novels he's her talking Grim Familiar and she manages to solve most of the problems by herself with moxie, luck, and raw talent. Though more than once her trusty Grim, Snuffles, manages to play hero and save the day.

It's the truth with caveats and twists for public consumption. It all makes it sound so much grander than it is. But, despite her general protests, (which mostly come down to her being a private person and the itch she gets at not being normal, which the Dursley's managed to beat into her subconscious, as much as she hates it) she does think it's amusing and loves the heart of what they show — her and Sirius against the world.

And, it's funny, that people believe less in the version of her pressed between those pages than they do that she survived the killing curse as a babe. Which, is a blatant falsehood and extreme misdirection from the reality Harley and Sirius have been able to cobble together through investigative adventures.

Needless to say, her mother's brilliance should've been feared a lot more than it was.

She rolls a wrapped nougat in her fingers, idle and wary.

George scratches the back of his neck. "I, uh, wouldn't keep that if I were you."

With a quirked brow, she asks, "Going to beat me bloody too?"

"What, no! It's ah, well… it's only sort of edible." He straightens from his crouch. She waits. "You, see, it, uh…well Gred and I were experimenting with potions and….that candy will land you in the infirmary. We haven't figured out how to deal with all the side effects…."

"You're experimenting with potions."

"Yeah."

"Your brother's bloody because of some nougat?"

"Yeah."

"You're teaching your brother a lesson the hard way?"

"I guess, yeah."

"You do you." She shrugs, handing him back the sweet. So her initial impressions of the twins hadn't been wrong then. Experiments going awry is far more tolerable, even admirable, than bullying a younger sibling for basically being a younger sibling. So many wizards tend towards mediocrity and not pushing the status quo. Innovation's sorely lacking in the wizarding world. Creativity too. Sometimes she thought magic made it far too easy on them. Their gazes lock, his a startling, warm blue. "Sometimes the biggest ideas have small beginnings."

George grins, a little foolishly. "You quoted the first line of Harley Potter and the Elusive Erkling.

"Did I? How odd." She slips past him, trunk in tow. "See you around, Weasley."

Tucked in one of the rear compartments on the Hogwarts express, Harley struggles to box herself back into the shape Hogwarts expects. Though the act doesn't bother her as it's her choice.

The wizarding world abandoned both her and Sirius, had no faith in them, were willing to convict and condemn with no evidence or proof. Sirius lost years of his life to Azkaban. She lost her innocence.

Before she understood Sirius was going to love and support her no mater what, before she even believed in him as a guardian or person, he taught her one thing: that they owed the wizarding world _nothing_.

That fundamental belief changed _everything_.

Her and Sirius had been stalked, cursed, bewitched, attacked, and the list of 'attempted' but ultimately failed transgressions are staggering.

So, it all became a game.

Without owing their society anything, she's less beholden to their ideals, morals, rules, or whims. And why take them seriously when they couldn't even think critically? They can't be serious enough themselves to see the fallacy in their own action, thoughts, or words.

Her Hogwarts career, lonely as it is, only reinforced her opinion.

At every turn or shift in thought or opinion either her praises were sung or she was condemned to hell, over nothing more than an idea or old prejudice. When the tide inevitably shifted, no one apologized or even commented on it, everything's always glossed over and ignored.

Every once in a while, she considers explaining or reaching out, looking for connection with her peers, but they prove time and time again it's not worth the effort. That they'll just let her down.

Though, she's not above a little sharing and one on one chatting if it serves her purpose. After all the end justifies the means and if in giving a little she gains the capacity to gain a lot and get a little well-earned revenge, so be it.

In the end, she owes the wizarding world nothing of herself. Sirius practically embedded that truth into her soul. It's exactly why he'll never see it coming. And, moreover, why when he gets over the shock of it all, he'll have nothing but praise and accolades for her.

Being shrewd and cunning is so much more fun than just recklessly brave. Though, to be fair, she had needed her Gryffindor heart to summon the courage to give up anything at all and set her plan in motion.

She knows school will be….interesting this year. That her carefully crafted….well, everything, might be in jeopardy but….some risks are worth taking.

If only she could see Padfoot's face when his subscription came next week.

The door to her compartment slides open, admitting a blond, round-faced teen just growing into his stockier stature and proportions. He's turning out to be rather handsome, if not perpetually boyish.

Neville Longbottom closes the compartment door behind him, shoving his toad, Trevor, in to his pocket. His eyes won't meet her own. "You said we'd celebrate our birthdays together."

She winces. "Nev, I—"

"Owe me 50 galleons." He grins, the clouds drifting away to reveal the sun, all bright and cheery.

Harley gives him a withering look but he holds out his palm, wiggling his fingers.

"Bloody prat."

"I knew you two would spend the entire summer abroad." Neville shrugs, accepting the coins she pulls from her expandable purse. "Padfoot wasn't about to let you have any down time, considering. Honestly, I'm surprised he even brought you back. I half expected you'd both disappear what with you-know-who's return."

Neville pauses at the devilish glint in Harley's eye.

"You can't have a scheme already. We're not even at school!"

Harley smirks. "Revenge is hardly a _scheme_."

"Where are you going to start, then?"

"My illustrious, dog-father, of course. He's branching into a fairy tale version of our life, going for the whole shebang this time. Something should be kept sacred, at least. I mean, he's going to ruin the sanctity of fairy tales. Turning the written word on him, for a change, seems like fair play."

"So you're not going after the Prophet — or, Merlin, have you even seen what the Prophet's been doing?"

Harley sneers. "That rubbish isn't worth my notice and neither is anyone who bothers with it. I did my part, I warned them. I'm not the one who's going to look daft in the end. Merlin knows, soon enough they'll all be clamouring about for a child to fix their adult problems heralding me as their chosen saviour or some other trite lark."

Neville's expression softens and he touches her shoulder. "You don't need to hide from me, Harley. I know you. We are god-siblings."

She sniffs with a false air of condescension. "The magic binding such relations doesn't give you any insight into the complex workings of my mind or—"

Neville waves her off, laughing. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I get it."

She pats his hand before leaning forward to ruffle his hair. "I don't want to dwell on it, Nev. That's all. It bloody sucks. I'm more than a little gutted. And, shite, it's not something I want to deal with, at all. But…I've got everything I need. And the only people who matter believe me."

"Your godfather would 'believe' you if he had evidence you were lying to him staring him right in the mug."

"No. He'd stand by me. Being devious is a Marauder staple after all, sometimes a lie is necessary to get you out of trouble or establish an alibi." The teasing glint to her expression turns more serious again. "Besides, you and Moony believe me too."

Neville murmurs his agreement, before glancing at the fogged compartment glass, shoulders slumping. "I'm getting side-tracked. I want to know all about your hols — mine are too dull to recount well, I did get this rather interesting carnivorous plant— but, Harley, I actually came by to discuss something…something important."

"Everything alright?"

"Yes…well, no. It isn't." Neville steels himself, shoulders squaring. "After last year, people know we're linked now. And they think you're going dark—"

"Yeah well, most wizards are too inept to form their own opinion. Sad really, but critical thinking and common sense is truly a lost art."

"Don't be flippant, please. I… well, I'm worried about you."

"I can take care of myself, Nev."

"Yeah, that's the thing though. You're _always_ by yourself."

Harley quirked a brow. "I'm never alone."

"Talking to an enchanted mirror is not proper company! Everyone finds it bizarre. It only others you more!"

She shrugs, but her body language is defensive. "I don't see how people's opinions are my problem. They're responsible for their own thoughts and actions. I refuse to waste my time—"

"I don't think we should hide our relationship anymore."

Harley's eyes narrow. "I'm not _hiding_ you. I'd never hide you."

"You are."

"Sure, I'm not flaunting our relationship for the masses consumption but why does it even matter. We're god-siblings. Magically bound to each other by our mother's deep trust and friendship. And the Longbottom's and Potter's have been allied for centuries."

"We're _friends_."

"I don't need friends. I have Sirius. And you. And Moony. You each are what you are to me."

"I'm your friend."

Harley swallows, but says nothing. He's wrong. Friends betray you. Friends can't be trusted. Sentiment can be weak without the proper bonds holding it in place.

Neville and her? They are two. God-siblings — that's magically powerful and potent, especially when nurtured. Most numbers are complicated, with many facets but breaking down the Arithmancy and magic of a bond like theirs to the most salient part? Two god-siblings equals a bond of unshakeable loyalty and devotion.

Neville deflates entirely, mumbling, "Never mind. I've got to get back to my compartment. Someone might notice I've been gone too long for the loo."

Throat tight and conflicted, Harley offers right before he leaves, "We're still going to meet up at the end of the month to see what your Animagus form will be, right?"

Neville stiffens, before turning slowly, eyes cloudy. "We're more than allies and god-siblings Harley Potter-Black. We _are_ friends."

She shakes her head, why doesn't he see what she does? Friend is too weak a word.

"I understand your perceptions on relationships are a bit…unique. I…I know things weren't right before Sirius broke out, saved you from the muggles, and cleared his name. I get that no matter how carefree and fun loving he seems, Azkaban messed him up, that Pettigrew screwed you both over and that Professor Lupin broke both of your trust somehow, even though you guys still visit sometimes."

Harley scowls. Moony's always been complicated. Her and Sirius were Moony's pack. They couldn't abandon him, he'd go mad. Moony loves them fiercely, but he's blinded by Dumbledore and tried to take her away from Sirius one too many times growing up.

He's… he's Moony.

He is who he is in their life but he has a tendency to run away from problems, to be overly critical of Sirius and his parenting. He agrees with Dumbledore that she should've been with the Dursley's, for her protection, even more so now that _He's_ back, and seems incapable of seeing past his blind devotion for Dumbledore.

Which, the man did give him a life, a chance to be normal, and an opportunity to learn. But… Moony has too much self-loathing and too many complex issues to see past himself or his blinders and see the bigger picture.

Neville continues, "I get that the only person you really, truly trust is Sirius Black. I know he's your person, your everything, but that doesn't mean we aren't something too. I'm not going anywhere, I'm not going to betray you or your trust and when you're ready to admit it, I'll be here. One day you'll realize there's nothing to be scared of."

And with that soft declaration, he leaves.

Neville doesn't know what he's talking about. What does he think god-sibling and ally means? She simply isn't interested in inviting the world to scrutinize it. Or, for him to become a target.

Besides, it's easier to keep the fans and people trying to use her for their own machinations and ends away if she remains unapproachable.

Plus she's got her guise and cover to keep. Cavorting openly with a Gryffindor would squander that or bring her under unwanted scrutiny. She's practiced staying solidly mediocre to some sort of exquisite art form. Completely blended in to the crowd while keeping herself entirely other.

So, no one ever suspects her. Except perhaps Snivellus, but he's yet to find one shred of proof so that's rather irrelevant. She enjoys the freedom the relative anonymity she's managed to scrape together from the daunting shadow of her fame, fortune, and title provides her. Blatantly crossing the divide between Gryffindor and Slytherin and flaunting House Unity will ruin that.

Besides, she's got too many long term plans, plots, and schemes in regards to meddling old coots who nearly ruined her life and continuously interfering and well-meaning adults in that castle who never took their roles of _in parentis locos _seriously enough. She isn't going to toss that aside. Neville has plenty of people. She makes time for him.

And it's not like she's got much of that to spare. Her and Sirius have big, big plans and goals, not to mention a dark wizard after their hides. And any relaxation time she could use to be more blatant about her and Neville's association is time spent on her and Sirius minor adventures. They're _busy_. And having a blast while being occupied to boot.

"I'm _not_ scared," Harley mumbles to her empty compartment.


End file.
